


(i'm so) proud of you

by cornerkick



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerkick/pseuds/cornerkick
Summary: Lindsey puts in the back of the net like it’s nothing and Emily gets to celebrate with her and it feels like, for 90 minutes, nothing’s changed at all.ORthe one where sonny can't sleep without lindsey
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	(i'm so) proud of you

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you write 2.5k of nothing just bc lindsey horan scores 3 goals and adds a couple assists and sonny gets to play a full 90
> 
> some of this is actually just undercover_martyr's fault
> 
> i actually intended to write pwp after this game because of....reasons, but i drank too much and got soft so you get this instead.
> 
> title is drake but that has very little to do with anything. enjoy?

There’s something electric about watching Lindsey play when she’s locked in like this.

Emily’s not just watching, though. She’s _ playing_, too. She’s starting and it’s the first time she’s seeing more than ten minutes of time and she just wants to do well, but, sometimes, it’s really hard to focus on what she’s supposed to be doing when Lindsey’s playing like _that_.

When she scores so early on, Emily knows it’s going to be one of those nights. She’s played with Lindsey long enough to recognize when she’s locked in and she almost feels bad for Panama.

Almost.

Her passes find Lindsey effortlessly and she only thinks about how much she’s going to miss this once. Then, everything is happening so fast that Emily just has to focus on keeping pace and not losing her breath.

When they’re both in the box and the ball comes towards them, her first instinct is to make a move for it.

Lindsey has other ideas.

She’s loud and confident absolutely _ yelling _ at her to _ leave it, Sonny, leave it! _

So Emily does.

Lindsey puts it in the back of the net like it’s nothing and Emily gets to celebrate with her and it feels like, for 90 minutes, nothing’s changed at all. 

After, Emily pulls on her jacket and leans in close to Lindsey while they walk the stadium, waving and signing. Once they’re out of range of one of the most obvious cameras, Emily leans heavily into Lindsey’s side.

Lindsey’s busy waving at the fans, but when she lowers her arm, she drapes it across Emily’s shoulders and pulls her in close. 

It should feel heavy or intrusive but it just feels like home to Emily.

-

When they get back to the hotel, people mostly disperse to their rooms. It’s Qualifiers. It’s important and people are concentrating on the next game and the next opponent.

But Emily can’t sleep. 

It’s not that she’s not tired. She hasn’t played a full 90 since October and her muscles ache in that satisfying, lay-it-all-out-there kind of way. 

But as soon as Emily lays down her mind is buzzing.

She’s not thinking about anything in particular. She’s replaying parts of the game. That long ball in. The pass she’d made to JMac at the end. A few of the corner kicks she might have played differently if she had the chance to do it again.

Then, out of nowhere, she hears Lindsey screaming from over her shoulder and feels a pinprick of cold water down her spine...and something else entirely that settles low in her stomach. 

Lindsey was so good tonight. She’s _ always _ so good, especially to Emily, but she was on another level tonight. 

And Emily got to be a part of that. 

Rose is asleep across the room. Emily knows because she snores loudly and Emily can hear it from her place. 

The hotel sheets are too scratchy. It’s too cold in this room. She can’t get comfortable no matter how many times she shifts in bed. With a sigh, Emily fumbles blindly for her cell phone where it’s plugged in on the bedside table. 

There are no notifications there. It was a little weird to get used to, at first, but Emily’s been ultimately happier without mindlessly scrolling Twitter. She _ does _ still have a dummy Instagram account, but it’s only for following Emma and several dog blogs. 

The lock screen is lit up with a string of text messages, mostly from family and friends at home, telling her how well she played.

There’s one from Lindsey that shows a thumbnail of a photo from their _ last _ game, black and white and holding hands on the sideline. She’s seen it before because Lindsey _ showed _ her when she found it, dug her elbow into Emily’s ribs and told her to look even though it was on someone’s Insta story. 

Emily has it saved to her phone already. 

She swipes to clear the notifications and navigates to her previous text thread with Kelley.

**Son:** u up   
**KO: ** thought we didn’t do this anymore?   
**KO:** look, not that i’m not flattered but you know i’ve got a girlfriend now. you’ve met her! you like her!   
**KO: **i appreciate it but we can’t

Emily’s already furiously typing a response before Kelley’s final text comes through.

**Son:** can u like   
**Son: **get out of ur room for a while

The response comes almost immediately. 

**KO: ** oh.   
**KO:** this isn’t a booty call for _ me _ is it?

Emily’s face is hot. So is the rest of her. She forces herself out of bed and shrugs into a sweatshirt and the first pair of shorts she can find. She pulls her hood up and sneaks out of the room as quietly as she can after sliding into her untied sneakers. 

Rose doesn’t move, so Emily considers it a win.

Once she’s outside in the cool night air, she feels like she can breathe again. That’s when she allows herself to reply to Kelley.

**Son: ** not a booty call   
**Son:** is _ she _ up?   
**KO: **why don’t you ask her yourself?

Emily is halfway through keying out _ y dont u leave _ when someone runs into her. 

Or, really, Emily runs into someone who steadies her with their arms at her elbows. “Sorry,” she says without thinking or looking at who she nearly bowled over. 

“No problem, Son,” Kelley says, not bothering to hide her shit-eating grin as she keeps her hands on Emily’s biceps and holds her about arm’s length away, studying her with her head slightly tilted. 

She pulls Emily’s hood down, revealing her messy bun and hair still damp from her shower, and adjusts the collar of her hoodie. Then she gets to the shorts, which make Kelley laugh for some reason. She lets Emily go, then, and sidesteps her to disappear down the corridor. 

“What?” Emily calls back, pulling at the hem of the shorts subconsciously. They 're Thorns shorts, sure, which is maybe a little weird considering everything that’s happened, but they’re well-worn and comfortable and-

“Nothing.”

Emily’s fingers trace out the number ten on the right thigh. They’re old, from two seasons ago, but unmistakably not hers. 

-

She feels kind of stupid knocking on Lindsey’s hotel room door.

What if she’s asleep? Emily would hate to ruin Lindsey’s post-game routine. She’s been playing so well. 

Emily knows Lindsey well enough to know that if she’s really gone to bed, her phone will be on silent. She scrolls past her conversation with Kelley and the ones from her parents and Emma and, weirdly, Mike Horan, before finding her thread with Lindsey.

The first thing she sees is that picture, which makes her smile without thinking of it. When she scrolls up a little bit, she realizes they’d last been talking about where they might be able to sneak brunch tomorrow. She types in a quick message.

**Dasani: **great game for the great horan

Three little dots appear automatically. Emily bites her lip to hide her smile from nobody. 

**Linessi: ** thanks. you, too.   
**Linessi: ** even if you tried to steal that one goal from me   
**Dasani: ** i still think i had a better angle   
**Linessi: **you still got out of my way.

Emily can’t argue. 

**Dasani: **can u open ur door? its cold out here

Lindsey answers the door wearing a thin, worn t-shirt that’s too small in the arms and too short in the torso so it shows off the tiniest bit of skin between the hem of it and her sweats. She blinks at Emily and leans into the doorjamb, effectively blocking her way inside of the deserted hotel room. 

“I don’t usually answer after eleven,” she says, raising her eyebrows. 

Emily knows there’s a blush coloring her cheeks but she powers through it. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m here to sleep with you, but I’m just here to _ sleep with you _.” When Lindsey doesn’t move, Emily exhales on a sigh. “Like, platonically.”

“Platonically?” Lindsey parrots her, sounding a combination of amused and disappointed. It does something weird to Emily’s stomach, though she does her best to ignore it. 

“Not, like, _ platonically _but, you know, not romantically.” Lindsey blinks at her. Emily’s ears are hot now. “Not tonight,” she clarifies, and Lindsey finally steps aside to let her in.

Emily ducks inside and kicks off her sneakers before taking a chance on the bed closest to the door. Lindsey always takes that one when they room together and, though she never says it, Emily knows it’s because Lindsey feels like she can protect them from whatever might come through the door. 

She flops down heavily on the closest bed and feels her muscles uncoiling instantaneously. There’s something about being in Lindsey’s space, with Parks and Rec reruns playing in the background and Lindsey’s shampoo and perfume all over the blankets that lulls her almost to sleep without another word.

Emily feels the bed dip but doesn’t move except to burrow further into the bed. For a moment or two, it’s quiet. Emily’s entire body relaxes and she sinks deeper into the mattress, eyelids fluttering closed.

And then she hears Lindsey typing and the comforting and familiar soundtrack of Leslie Knope is replaced by the sounds of soccer followed by announcers 

Emily groans out loud and reaches over to try and close Lindsey’s laptop, but she can’t reach. “What’re you doing?” She complains, turning her head to look at her.

“Watching highlights.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to download it?” Emily asks.

Lindsey doesn’t get it. “Why? I can just stream it from here.”

“No, like,” Emily says, shuffling over onto her back and managing to close the laptop. “Plug yourself in and download it, you soccer playing robot.” 

Emily knows Lindsey’s rolling her eyes even if she can’t see it in the dark room. “I’m not a robot.”

“What was that?”

“I’m not-”

Emily kisses her quiet, just because she can. It’s been a while since she’s been able to, because they’re at Qualifiers and because they’re focusing on that and because they haven’t _ actually _ told anyone (though Emily is pretty sure Alex, of all people, knows, which means _ Kelley _ definitely knows, too). 

Lindsey melts into it. She kisses Emily like it’s a game she’s trying to win, all push and pull and with a little bit of bite to it. Emily’s the one that ends up sighing when Lindsey breaks the kiss to breathe, chasing her lips and making a needy noise a the back of her throat that makes Lindsey smirk at her, all dimples and teeth. 

Emily kisses that off of her face, too, but this one’s less dirty. It’s lazy and familiar and perfect. By now, Lindsey’s forgotten about the game and her laptop in favor of kissing Emily, which was kind of the point.

Emily presses soft kisses to Lindsey’s mouth and her jaw and that spot where her neck meets her shoulder where she wants to leave marks but doesn’t because no one knows and if they do they’re not saying anything. 

Lindsey pulls the hair tie out of Emily’s hair and combs her fingers through it while she steals the elastic for her own wrist. 

Emily curls her body around Lindsey’s and settles again. She’s inches from sleep again, lulled by Lindsey’s warmth and the feel of her fingers in her hair. 

But Lindsey’s the restless one in _ this _ room. She keeps moving around and when Emily looks at her, she’s messing around on her phone, scrolling Twitter.

“Linds, come on,” she complains, reaching over to swat the phone out of Lindsey’s hand. “Sleep with me.”

“Thought we said none of that until this tournament’s done?” 

“Not what I meant.” Lindsey grabs for her phone again so Emily does the only thing she can: she lays directly on top of Lindsey and threads their fingers so she can’t get to it. 

Lindsey says “You’re such a brat,” but doesn’t shove her off, which Emily considers a win. Lindsey definitely _ could _ do that, which means she doesn’t _ want _ to. 

Emily slides down a little bit so that she can get one leg between both of Lindsey’s and find that spot beneath Lindsey’s chin her head was made for. From here, she can hear the steady thrum of Lindsey’s heartbeat and that really is going to put her to sleep if she doesn’t think about something else. Lindsey wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders, tracing circles aimlessly into her back.

“Linds?” She says into the dark. 

“Hm?” This time Lindsey sounds sleepy, which was kind of the point. Emily smiles into her neck. “Em?” 

“I’m proud of you,” she says, voice low but firm. When Lindsey doesn’t say anything, she adds, “Not just the goals. You were so good tonight. Did you know that?” 

“I scored three goals. I know I played well.” Emily presses a laugh into Lindsey’s neck. “But _ you _ played a hell of a game, Em.” 

Emily’s mouth is suddenly really dry. She feels too hot all of a sudden and curses herself for not putting a t-shirt on under this hoodie. She hides her face in the crook of Lindsey’s neck, but Lindsey won’t let her. She uses two fingers beneath Emily’s chin to force eye contact and arches a single brow. 

“Your passes were crisp. You were all over the place in the box. You helped me score that second one-”

“All I did was let you have it…”

“-you kept your cool and played both two positions in the same game _ and _ played a full 90.” Lindsey presses her lips to the crown of Emily’s head and Emily closes her eyes again. 

“Didn’t think you remembered how to do that.”

“Hey!” Emily protests, digging her nose into Lindsey’s neck and making her yelp at how cold it is.

“I’m just proud of you, too. You should know that.”

“I know.” 

It’s just nice hear. Especially from Lindsey, who’s one of the best players in the world.

-

When Kelley gets back to the room at 8 o’clock in the morning, she finds Emily and Lindsey curled all over each other and fully clothed. She stares at them for a second, snaps a picture to send to Alex, and then grabs Lindsey’s foot. 

“What are you two weirdos doing?”

“We _ were _ sleeping,” Lindsey complains, hiding her face in Emily’s hair. 

Kelley starts rummaging around in her suitcase. Emily’s still sleepy and soft, her face pressed into the crook of Lindsey’s shoulder. “If you guys were just cuddling, why’d I have to leave?” 

Lindsey shrugs. Emily says nothing. 

“I thought you guys were getting lucky in here.”

Lindsey curls an arm protectively around Emily and Emily cuddles into her. “I _ am _ lucky.”

“God, you’re gross,” Kelley grumbles, holding up her phone. “Alex says hi, by the way. She agrees you’re gross.” 

“Don’t care.” 

“Me either.” 

“Okay, well, as long as you know.”

“We know.” 

“We’re cool with it.”

“Man,” Kelley says as she disappears into the bathroom. “Was I ever that bad?”

“Worse,” Alex says, and Emily has to agree. 

“Wanna wake up?” Lindsey asks, voice raspy with sleep. 

“Nope.”

“Wanna stay in bed all morning?”

“Yep.”

“If you do that, I’m joining that cuddle pile,” Kelley warns them. 

Emily lifts her head enough to look at Lindsey, who just shrugs at her.

-

That’s how Rose finds them three hours later.

“You know what?” She says, throwing Emily a change of clothes. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can request me @cornerkix_ on twitter for more shenanigans


End file.
